Skwisgaar's Blanket
by xkellyskwigelfx
Summary: Set after the attack on mordhaus. Possibly Renovationklok or Tributeklok. Skwisgaar goes looking for his "famous" white throw. Where he finds it, will blow your mind...well unless you saw it coming. :  Rated M for language.


Skwisgaar yawned and looked at the clock. 12:32 A.M. The night was still pretty young. He yawned again and set his explorer down. "What the fuck-yawnnn-dammit Skwisgaar." Nathan yawned in the middle of cursing the guitarist. "Dude if yer...shit-" Pickles yawned too. "Dude if yer tired, go to bed. I'm pretty sure we can drink without you." he said quickly, before he had the chance to yawn again. Skwisgaar got up and supressed a yawn, then stretched lazily, and walked back to his room. Ever since the attack on Mordhaus, everyone had gotten new things. It was the same as before, it just didn't smell like smoke. Skwisgaar looked at his bed. Still in a TON of plastic, and no pillows, nor his white throw were on it. He had a klokateer put all of his bedding in the washer. (You just couldn't replace something like that.) Skwisgaar sighed and tore all the crinkly plastic wrap off his bed, and lied down. Before he knew it, he was in a deep sleep.

Skwisgaar shivered and pulled his arms into his shirt, thankful he hadn't taken it off. He fell back into an uncomfortable sleep.

He opened his eyes and sighed angrily. He could have sworn he saw his breath hang in the icy air around him. He stuck his hands back out of his shirt, and got out of bed. He snatched up his dethphone, and looked at the time. 9:12. "What de fucks?" he swore loudly. He was really cold, and really tired. Skwisgaar walked into the hallway, and down to the laundry room. It didn't take him long to find it. He had been here many times before to get Toki a change of clothes every time he had to babysit the Norwegian when he got drunk. Skwisgaar scoffed at the thought. Skwisgaar strode over to the black dryer and yanked the door open. It was empty. Skwisgaar furrowed his brow in confusion. He peered inside the washer. It too, was empty. Skwisgaar shoved his hand in his pocket and stabbed a couple numbers into his phone. Moments later, a hooded klokateer showed up.

"Yes, my lord?" he asked loyally.

"You! I hads you washes my t'ings, and they ams nots here. What de fucks happens? Dat stuffs is not reallies replacikable, you does know dat, right?" Skwisgaar asked, irritably.

"My lord, I apologize, but I have not seen your things since I folded them and delivered them in a basket by your bedroom door." The klokateer confirmed, still using a loyal tone.

Skwisgaar sighed angrily. "Just gets outs of heres!"

The swede stomped his foot. _'where the hell did my things go?'_he wondered, still mad.

He stomped down the hallway, en route to his room. He walked past Toki's room and looked inside. The door creaked and Skwisgaar peered inside the dark room. The rhythm guitarist was fast asleep. Skwisgaar turned, and closed the door. He continued down the hallway, passing Nathan's and Pickles's rooms. He kept walking. Skwisgaar was pretty sure he didn't want to know what was going on behind those doors. He was just about to give up and just order another blanket when he entered his room and sat down on his bed. He picked up his explorer and absent-mindedly plucked at the strings. Skwisgaar realized it was a melody he hadn't played before, and instantly tried to create another song. About ten minutes later, he had both the lead, and the rhythm parts. He signed then decided he may as well put the bass lines together too. He got up and stretched again. He set his guitar down and walked back out into the hallway.

Eventually, he found his way to Murderfaces' room. He had this very simple plan. Get in, get the bass guitar, get out. Skwisgaar hoped to hell it was as easy done as it was said. He inched the door open, and slid inside. He took a deep breath in and almost gagged. The smell was repugnant. Skwisgaar slipped back out into the hallway, and supressed a cough. He covered his mouth, and held his breath. His cerulean eyes watered. He took a deep breath of fresh air, and covered his nose with his shirt, then plunged back into the bassists' bedroom. In his haste, he knocked into the desk by the door, and various metal trinkets fell over, creating several loud, clanky, noises that echoed off the stone walls. Skwisgaars' eyes widened and he looked over at the sleeping bassist, frantically, but what he saw about killed him. There, tucked around the mans' body, was Skwisgaars' blanket. "What de FUCKS Murderface?" The swede exclaimed loudly. Murderface didn't even stir. He snored loudly, but that was all the response the lead guitarist got out of him. Skwisgaar snarled and stomped over to Murderface.

"MURDERFACE!" he shouted. The bassist opened his eyes and squinted up at Skwisgaar. "What the hell do you want, blondie? Do you know what time it isch?" he lisped. Skwisgaar looked feral.

"Dat-ams-my-blanket-gives-it-backs!" Skwisgaar growled.

"No way! I found it! Findersch Keepersch!" Murderface said, as he tucked the blanket closer to his chubby body, and rolled over, facing away from the swede.

Skwisgaar gave an incomprehensible yell, and ripped the alarm clock out of the wall and started beating the bassist with it.

"DAT-AMS-MINE-YOU-LIFE-INCENTERED-GARBAGE-CAN!" he yelled, hitting him on every word.

"OW! OW!" SKWISGAAR! FUCK! Okay fine-ow! Juscht take it! Jeezy!" Murderface shouted, squirming out of the blanket and tossing it back to Skwisgaar, who dropped the alarm clock, gathered the blanket up and held it at arms length, but not before grabbing a bass guitar and marching triumphantly out of Murderface's room.

"Hey! That wasn't part of the deal, asshole!" Murderface called, but Skwisgaar ignored him.

Skwisgaar kept the blanket at arms' length all the way back to the laundry room. He tossed the white blanket in the washer and used more detergent than necessary, then leaned against a folding table and watched the washer and dryer like a hawk in between figuring bass lines.

When he finally had it back, and it was washed and dried, he took the warm blanket back to his room, flung it over his bed and snuggled into it. Moments later, Nathan came in to complain about the noise earlier, but all he found of Skwisgaar was a mass of blonde hair sprawled out on a pillow that was coming out of a fluffy white cocoon.

He rolled his eyes. "fuck it" he muttered, and went back to bed.


End file.
